Give Me a Hero And I'll Show You a Tragedy
by deletedaccount0110983682
Summary: 1922, and the Vargas Mafia has New York City under it's thumb. Lovino Vargas runs the notorious gang with the muscle of the operation, Antonio Carriedo. But not all cops can be bribed, and private eyes Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland are determined to track them down.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: So I know some of you have been wondering what's been taking me so damn long with my updates for my other fic, this monster here is the answer! Me and Maja (alfiejones) are co-writing this and I cannot express how excited we are about it! Enjoy! [Update: Page breaks added, hates the way I usually do them apparently and they never transfer, apologies!]_

Lovino looked around the slowly emptying lobby of the bank. There were only about twenty or thirty people left in the place. He looked over at his brother who stood, waiting, by the door and gave him a nod. He received a nod in return, and spun around, pulling the gun he had hidden under his suit jacket out and shooting two shots at the ceiling.

"Everyone on the ground, now!" Naturally, a friendly security guard had a gun trained on him. He turned and faced the guard, a cocky grin plastered across his face. He pointed his pistol at the nearest civilian. "Drop it bastard."

As expected, the guard immediately complied. He moved forward and quickly scooped up the guard's dropped weapon, pointing it at one of the tellers.

"You. I want four bags fully loaded with cash, and make it quick. My friend here will go with you, to keep you company." He nodded to Antonio, who had been lurking near the wall. "Shoot her if she's not going fast enough." He called, tossing him the security guard's gun.

The two disappeared into the back, and not a moment later, sirens began wail. Lovino locked eyes with Feliciano and cursed under his breathe. The cops had been good lately. Too good. He looked up to the clock on the wall. They had five minutes. Tops.

He walked slowly back toward his brother, watching his hostages carefully, making sure they knew that if they made a move, they were dead. He slid his free hand into his pocket and pulled out his car keys.

"Go start the car. We'll be out soon. If the cops show up, go. Got it?"

Feliciano hesitated, as if he was going to argue, but seemed to think better of it and nodded, taking the keys and disappearing outside.

The sirens were getting louder. Lovino glanced at the clock again. Three minutes. His heart pounded heavily in his chest.

Relief washed over him as Antonio reappeared from the back, carrying four bags. He tossed one to Lovino.

"Let's go, asshole the cops are on their way!" He shouted, turning and racing out the door, Antonio at his heels.

They tossed to bags into the car that waited for them at the curb and jumped in as police cars appeared around the corner.

"Go, Feli, go, go, go!" Lovino yelled. They were all thrown backwards as Feli slammed on the gas and they took off, the three laughing as they sped away from the cops. All they had to do now was lose them, which was no difficult task, as they had learned many times before.

XxXxX

"_Shit_!" Arthur cursed, kicking over a teller's stool. "_Fuck! _Not again! Damnit!"

They had arrived too late, just barely. The back door was still swinging by the time the he and his partner had pushed shoved their way through the glass doors, fingers on the trigger. The Von Bock bank was the third bank this month to suffer a robbery, and certainly the wealthiest so far.

"Calm down, Artie." His partner said. But Arthur could see the frustration on his face and the way he pressed his lips into a tight line.

"God damnit, Alfred. This is the _third_ time we've lost them. I bet its the fucking Vargas brothers." He growled.

"Dude, I get it, _trust me_. But freaking out isn't gonna help us find clues. Besides, you're scaring the witnesses."

That was true. Arthur looked down to see a startled young woman on the ground, staring at his loaded gun stunned.

"Right," He cleared his throat and crouched to the woman's level. "Excuse me, madam. Kirkland and Jones, private eyes. We were wondering if you could answer a few-"

The woman backed away from him quickly, manicured fingers curling up in apprehension.

"Ah, yeah, maybe let me take this one. You can record, Arthur." Alfred said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "So ma'am, what exactly did you see?"

"I- there were three of them. One was...very handsome. He was tall, and he had green eyes and brown hair. Two of them looked very similar, and-"

"Italian?" Arthur asked, eyes glinting.

"Y-yes. I think thats what their accents were. The leader, he was the only one who spoke."

"It was them, Alfred." He said to the younger detective, who looked up at him with still skeptical blue eyes.

"We can't go off a hunch without proof, Artie." Arthur rolled his eyes at Alfred's constant nickname for him. "Can you give us any signature characteristics? Did anything stand out?"

The woman thought for a minute, before answering.

"The two that looked alike. They both had this crazy piece of hair that stuck out."

"That's them, Alfred!" Arthur hissed victoriously, scribbling it down in his notebook. "It has to be."

"I think you're right." Alfred said, standing back up and straightening his hat. "Well, thank you Miss-"

"Brooks. Jane Brooks."

"Miss Brooks, you've been a real help." She blushed when he fixed her with his megawatt smile before turning back to Arthur.

"There you go again. Always trying to pick up dates at a crime scene." Arthur rolled his eyes, trying not to seem as annoyed as he felt.

"I am _not_!" Alfred gaped. "We needed to record her name! Why did you think I was flirting?"

"You gave her the look!"

"What look?" Alfred tilted his head at Arthur, which wasn't _the look_ but it was another one of _the looks_.

"N-nevermind. We have to investigate anyways." Arthur stuttered and turned away, hoping to hide the flush that colored his cheeks.

"Ah the boring work. You can take the lead here, A." Alfred sighed and followed his companion through the marble arch that led to the vault.

Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland were the perfect team. Alfred the "people person", witnesses and suspects opened right up to him. Even when they weren't working the case, Detective Inspector Beilschmidt would call him in for questioning captured criminals.

Arthur, on the other hand, was the last word in finding the cold hard facts. Once he tracked down a murderer using only the gunpowder residue left behind and a footprint.

Beyond that, the two were best friends who balanced each other out. There were no better private eyes in all of New York, the reason why Ludwig Beilschmidt, hired them to assist with tracking down the mob terrorizing the city.

"Right," Arthur called out as they entered the vault, locking eyes with the terrified manager. "how exactly did they take the money?"

"Well, you see..." He trailed off fiddling with his glasses. "They asked."

"Let me get this straight." Arthur said quietly, pacing a circle around the traumatized Estonian man. "You are one of the top banks in the nation. You have a full staff of armed guards at all times. It's a business day. And you're telling me that _three men_ singlehandedly took fifty thousand dollars and left, because they _asked?_"

His voice rose steadily as he spoke, until he was shouting at the bank manager, and Alfred winced, shaking his head.

"What my associate means to say is, why didn't you stop them?" Alfred said, smoothly taking over.

"Well, we were...frightened. They were threatening us."

"Alright, I can't imagine getting any more information here. Alfred?"

"Yeah, let's bounce." Alfred said, the two of them turning on their heels and striding out the gilded doors of the crime scene.

"Arthur, baby, we gotta work on your people skills." Alfred said, walking across the crowded city street.

"I have plenty of _people skills_, Jones. And don't call me baby." Arthur spat defensively, heart fluttering. It wasn't really unusual for Alfred to dump every pet name available on Arthur, but it still brought a sinking feeling to his stomach.

"Well, you may have them. But they sure are rusty." He smirked, opening the door to their car and sliding in the driver's side. "But I have a proposition."

"Well, let's hear it then. And unlock my door, tosser!" Arthur cursed, standing on the sidewalk.

"So," Alfred began, opening the passenger door for Arthur to sit. "I propose we go out tonight. Loosen you up a little bit! Have some fun!"

"I suppose that it's not exactly legal, is it?"

"Aw, come on doll face! Since when were you such a wet blanket? I happen to know you're as big of a fan of some giggle juice as much as the next guy." Alfred batted his eyes under his glasses as he revved the engine.

"Since we started on a highly publicized investigation that could turn very nasty if we got arrested." He sniffed, looking out at the window at the tall buildings whizzing by.

"Come _on_, Artie! No one cares! Trust me, Mattie's a journalist and the stuff that they hear and don't print goes far beyond a night out!"

Arthur hesitated for a moment. Things could turn out extremely bad if they got caught, and considering they were tracking a mob infamous for booze smuggling, damn hypocritical. But on the other hand, it had been so long since he'd gone out, and Alfred was so excited about him going...

"Alright fine." He sighed, cracking a smile at the enthusiasm on his friend's face.

"Hot dog! This is going to be great! We'll grab some dinner while we're out then we can go to _Magnifique_"

"Wait, _Magnifique_? _Francis Bonnefoy's _bar? No way. No way in hell." Arthur protested.

"Why not! It's the best place in town! I know you hate Francis but come _on_ baby!"

Once again, Arthur gave in, weak to Alfred's pet names.

That was the only splinter in their perfect team. The only reason Arthur feared their whole partnership would collapse upon itself.

He was in love with Alfred, and Alfred must never know.

XxXxX

Lovino tossed the bags onto the table and sauntered into the kitchen.

"How about we toast to a job well done?" He asked, reappearing holding up a bottle of gin and glasses for each of them.

"But fratello!" Feli gasped in mock horror, "That's illegal!"

Lovino paused, going along with his brother's act.

"Oh no, Feli, you're right! We can't have this! We might get caught!"

The two burst out laughing as they sat down at the table.

"You are too cute." Antonio chuckled, spinning his chair around and straddling it, crossing his arms over the top of the backrest and resting his head there.

"We're the most wanted men in New York City." Lovino stated as he poured a generous amount of gin into each of the glasses, "We are not _cute_."

"Whatever you say, sheba." Antonio responded, taking his glass with a wink. Lovino blushed and took a swig of his drink.

"So. How much money have we got here?"

"Think it's somewhere around fifty thousand dollars." Antonio replied, a smug grin spreading across his lips.

"Hm. Not bad." Lovino said, draping his arm across the back of his chair. "Guess we should call Gil, give him his cut?"

"I'll go call him!" Feliciano offered, springing up from his seat and exiting the room.

"So, do I get a reward for getting you all this money?" Antonio asked slyly.

"Well considering you almost got us caught," Lovino smirked, "I don't think I owe you anything."

"Aww, Lovi~" Antonio pouted, taking Lovino's hand.

"Hey, be faster next time and maybe you'll get something, bastard." Lovino chided, stand up and pressing a soft kiss to the top of Antonio's head.

Feliciano came back into the room, assuring them that Gilbert would be there soon enough, so they all relaxed for the time being. Feliciano and Lovino started a game of darts while Antonio lounged on the couch calling out challenges for them to complete. Blindfolded, over the shoulder, under the leg, spin around ten times then throw, he never seemed to run out of ideas. And it didn't help that they were all steadily getting drunk.

"Kay, Lovi." Antonio said, "This time, throw _two _darts. One regular, one under the leg."

"That's impossible!" Feliciano giggled.

"I could do it!" Lovino boasted, pulling the darts off the board and going back to the throw line.

"At the same time?" Antonio asked.

"Watch." Lovino eyed the target carefully. He practiced the motion, readying his left hand for a normal throw and his right for under the leg. After repeating the motion a couple times, he attempted the throw. The dart thrown normally hit just outside the bullseye. The other, however, went astray. So far astray, in fact, that it almost hit Francis dead in the face as he stuck his head into the room.

"Mon dieu! What are you doing?!"

Antonio and Feli burst out laughing while Lovino pouted.

"Could have done it if I was more sober!" He grumbled.

"Oh, pull yourselves together." Francis scolded, picking up their suit jackets which had been carelessly tossed into a pile next to the table. "You're good friends the detectives are here. You might want to go upstairs until they leave."

"Ah, buying more of our alcohol? If only they knew they were the Vargas brothers' biggest benefactor." Lovino smirked, plopping down onto the couch next to Antonio. Francis sighed.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure I could imagine their faces if they knew their favorite bar was also the residence of their most wanted criminals. But I would prefer not to actually see it. So shoo." He pushed Feli in the direction of the stairs then pulled Antonio and Lovi up from the couch and handed them their jackets.

"Fine," Antonio sighed. "We'll just go count our bags and bags of cash."

"Si," Lovino nodded "We'll go divide up the money. Don't worry, we'll set some aside for you four-flusher."

"Go chase yourself!" Francis said exasperatedly.

"Oh, send Gil up when he gets here!" Antonio called as followed Lovino up the stairs.

After about ten more minutes of waiting around, Gilbert finally showed up.

"Sorry, Luddy wouldn't stop asking me where I was going, and I was afraid he was gonna try to tail me, so I had to drive in circles a while to make sure he wasn't. But I heard you guys scored big." He said grinning at the mound of cash that laid on the ground.

"Sure did!" Antonio said.

"Are those detectives still downstairs, Gil?" Feli asked. Gilbert laughed.

"They are! Francis said they've only been here a few minutes? But they're both already looking drunk, they were blushing like crazy when I went by 'em."

"If we all know they're head over heels for each other, you'd think one of them would have figured it out by now!" Lovino scoffed.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as they entered the backdoor of the speakeasy, the roar of music and conversation hit the detectives like a wave. _Magnifique_ was packed, even more than a usual Friday night, and the air was thick with the smell of cigarettes and perfume.

"Ah, applesauce." Alfred muttered into Arthur's ear, trying to be heard over the music. "I dunno if we'll be able to get a table."

"Oh, don't you worry about that. Francis still owes me big time, the frog bastard can at least get us a good spot." Arthur grimaced when he said Francis' name. Alfred had always wondered how the two knew each other; whenever Arthur brought up the socialite it was always with a bitter tone. He knew they had known each other since they were teenagers, which he pieced together through all of Arthur's stories of his wilder days that sometimes involved Francis.

But the reason why Alfred kept wondering was he didn't know whether he should be jealous or not.

Alfred followed close to his friend's side as the two of them wandered through the crowds, Arthur's green eyes scanning the surroundings. Alfred wrenched his gaze away from the detective to look around himself. He'd never actually been to _Magnifique_ before, and even all the dazzling stories he'd heard from his brother didn't amount to the chicness of the bar in person.

He was glad he'd worn his best suit, but even then he still felt underdressed. The women clutched glasses in shining dresses with ropes of pearls dripping off their necks, under the arms of wealthy men in expensive suits whose cologne seeped through the air. Dancers lined the stage, glittering as they swung their hips to the rhythm of the band. In front of them, couples were trying their hand at dancing to the fast paced music. Alfred looked on smiling, imagining Arthur and him pressed together, swaying to a slow song.

"Francis." Alfred looked over from the stage to see Arthur on the other side of him nod curtly at a dapper man with his golden hair tied back into a ponytail.

"_Ah! Mon cher!_" The infamous Francis cried, obviously more enthusiastic about seeing Arthur than Arthur felt. "So good to see you, old friend! Oh and you brought _ton petit copain aussi!"_

"Shut the fuck up, frog." Arthur glared at him, and Alfred wished he could understand French. He made a mental note to ask Matthew about that if he remembered. "We need a table."

"Oh, _desolée, _but it appears there's a line!"

"Listen, Francis. Need I remind you of the incident in Brooklyn?"

Alfred watched as the color drained from the Frenchman's face and Arthur smile smugly.

"Right, yes. One moment please! Angelique!" He waved over a dark skinned waitress, her curls held back by a silver band. "_Donnés-vous le table a gauche de ces hommes. Et donnez ils leur intimité, ils sont amoureux._"

"_D'accord_," She nodded, then smiled widely at a confused Alfred and a blushing Arthur. "Follow me boys!"

For the second time that night, Alfred wished he understood Francis Bonnefoy. Whatever he said to the waitress obviously involved Arthur, and made him blush. It could've been romantic, Francis could be hitting on Arthur!

But he took Spanish in high school, and from what he could connect from the similarities, Francis hadn't talked about himself.

"Here's your table, boys! Is there anything I can get you right away?" Their perky waitress Angelique piped as they reached a booth in a dark corner of the speakeasy.

"An Old Fashioned, if you please." Arthur said easily, waving away the list she held out.

"Uh, Cosmopolitan for me." Arthur replied after some thought.

"I'll be right out with those!" The girl chirped and bounced away, leaving the detectives alone.

"You've been looking awfully thoughtful tonight, Alfred." Arthur smirked, leaning across the table. "I thought you brought us here to, what were your words? Loosen up?"

"Artie, babe, when am I not loose?" Alfred laughed, enjoying the way Arthur flushed and pretended not to notice the term of endearment. "And this is the berries! Really a great change from sitting at home watching you stare at your evidence map until you pass out standing up."

"What? I've never done that!"

"Yeah you have," Alfred grinned. "I've just carried you to your bed every night."

Arthur turned bright red under his freckles and looked absolutely mortified, luckily, the waitress had chosen that exact moment to arrive with their drinks.

"Old Fashioned for you, and a Cosmopolitan for blue eyes over here."

"Thanks miss." Arthur said, smiling politely at the waitress, then back at Alfred. "Cheers, kid."

It didn't end after one drink, and as the two of them got progressively drunker, Arthur's eyes began to glaze over and Alfred's words began to be less inhibited.

"So, Artie." He slurred, taking another sip of his manhattan. "How do you know that Francis Bonnefoy anyways?"

"Oh, he was my step brother. Is? Maybe? Fuck if I know." Arthur laughed, at some point he had ended up sitting on the same side of the booth as Alfred and was pressing up very close to him. "My mum's second...or maybe third husband's son."

"Oh, so not like..." Alfred felt the tips of his ears grow hot. "Like an ex boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" Arthur snorted and drained the rest of his drink. "Please. He wishes. I may have taken out a few regrettable men, but _Francis _was never one of them."

Even in his booze-addled state, two dim light bulbs went off in Alfred's head.

One- Francis was not a threat.

Two- Arthur was like him, he liked men.

"Oh, well. That's, uh, good to know." He said, distracted by the fact that Arthur's hand was now resting on his thigh.

"So not my type." Arthur sighed, but then he fixed Alfred with an unreadable gaze. "Not that I really have a _type_ but..."

"So if you _did_ have a type," Alfred grinned drunkenly. "what would it be?"

"Hmm, well... I have a thing for blondes." Arthur's voice dropped into a husky whisper, and his finger began to trace circles on Alfred's leg. "And blue eyes."

Arthur was drunk, Arthur was so drunk. But so was Alfred, and right now neither of them cared about taboo, or the fact that any scandal could throw them under the bus.

"Really?" Alfred inquired, slipping his arm around Arthur's waist. "I think I'm a green eyes person myself."

"Hmm, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were flirting with me, Jones."

"We all know I'm the people reader, Kirkland." Alfred winked at Arthur, who in return leaned in close, pressing a sloppy whisper to his ear, making him shiver.

"Why don't me and you go dance? I saw you staring at the dancers earlier."

"Arthur, but we can't-"

"Oh please, this isn't any juice joint. No one here gives a damn, and those who do are too buzzed to notice." Arthur purred. "Come on, love. We didn't put on the ritz tonight not to have fun."

Alfred spent a moment in an Arthur-like vision of what if. He imagined making a fool of himself in front of Arthur, who sobered up and pushed him away. His love exposed, and "Alfred F. Jones: Homosexual Detective" was printed in black and white in the _Times_.

But on the other hand, Arthur was smiling at him, half-lidded eyes sparkling in the dim lighting and the music was starting to get more and more entrancing. Besides, he thought as he surveyed the dance floor, he saw two women leaning their heads together in a more than friendly manner.

"Ah, applesauce. I don't see why not! Come on darlin!" He said, springing to his feet and pulling Arthur along by the hand.

They pushed excitedly through the glittering patrons and smiling cigarette girls to the golden lit space in front of the stage.

"Well, Artie, I'm not exactly a great dancer but..."Alfred, began but was cut off when Arthur pulled him close and clasped his hand.

"Then I'll lead, _doll face_." Arthur drawled, the words sounding sounding promising and dangerous in his accent. "Just don't step on my feet."

True to his word, Arthur pulled Alfred close by his waist and spun him under his arm, leading him into a smooth and graceful dance, perfectly in time with the roar of the jazz music.

"Where'd you learn to dance like this?" Alfred asked, his face so close to Arthur's that it would be so easy to close the distance between them.

"I'm not as stuffy as you like to believe." Arthur smirked in response, throwing Alfred into a dip, and the younger detective panicked at the sudden motion. "And I won't drop you, either."

They swept around the floor, paying no attention to the odd glances from the surrounding couples, nor did they notice Francis quietly observing them from behind the bar, tucking a wad of the day's stolen cash into his pocket.

"I love this song!" Alfred laughed, far past tipsy. "Really love it...'S Benny Goodman I think."

Arthur just smiled at him and brought Alfred into one last dip as the song ended. Alfred stared up at Arthur, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted, his golden hair a mess that Alfred wanted to thread his fingers through.

"One more dance?" He asked as the band struck up a slower tune and one of the dancers started crooning into the microphone. He didn't quite want to let go of Arthur yet.

"I don't see why not," Arthur replied, sweeping Alfred back upright and shifting so his arms were wrapped around his waist. "Slower songs are easier, I'm sure you can manage this one."

Alfred draped his arms around Arthur's neck, and all he could think about was how pretty Arthur's eyes were and how much he wanted to kiss him. Honestly, the Vargas brothers could show up and shoot up the whole place and the two of them would be too inebriated and too enamored to even notice.

When the song ended, Arthur slumped in Alfred's arms, yawning.

"Let's go home, Alfie." He mumbled into his ear. " 'm fucking tired as shit, love."

"Yeah," Alfred said, realizing just how tired he was and leading Arthur back to their table. "I'll drive home, you... you're so wasted!"

"No, you bloody idiot, I'm barely drunk! _I'll _drive!"

"_Pardon, _ but I won't have either of you two drive, there's no way I'm letting you out on those roads." Francis suddenly appeared, slamming his hand down on the table, startling both of them. "If two prominent detectives die from driving drunk, they will absolutely trace it back to me."

"Fine." Arthur sighed. "Then what do _you_ suggest we do, genius?"

"Well, I have a spare bedroom in my apartment upstairs, I'd be happy to lend it to you tonight."

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you being so nice?"

"Arthur, _mon cher_, we are friends, no? I do not wish to see you dead, much less your pretty little one, here." Alfred bristled when Francis winked at him, but all the same Arthur nodded and asked for Francis to bring them up.

The duo followed Francis through a door behind the bar and up a darkened staircase to a corridor bordered on either side by doors.

"This one closest to the stairs is yours." He gestured. "When you wake up go right back down the stairs. Don't you dare go exploring. I have guests."

"You can't mean-disgusting Francis, as usual." Arthur scoffed.

"Well, what's the point of a speakeasy if you have to drive all the way home with your conquest? That's what's made my joint so popular!"

"Am I your conquest, baby?" Alfred whispered to Arthur, who turned bright red and stumbled to the door of their room.

"Alright, um." Arthur stuttered. "We're going to go. Bye."

Alfred, who had been leaning on the door fell in when Arthur shoved it open. The room was fashionably furnished, but there was one glaring feature.

Only one bed, but fortunately, the two of them were too drunk to care.

Alfred immediately shrugged off his suit jacket, letting it crumple to the floor, and flopped onto the bed.

"Aw, man, Artie! This bed is so comfy, come check it out!" He called out to Arthur, who came to sit down beside him on the huge feather bed. "And look at all these pillows!"

"Y-" Arthur started while removing his own jacket and tie, but was cut short when Alfred hit him square in the face with a pillow.

"Bastard!" He cried and reached for another pillow as Alfred snickered.

"You should have seen your f-" Arthur extracted his revenge by throwing his pillow into the American's face.

"Oh, so that's how you want to play?" Alfred said, his blue eyes twinkling manically, as he launched another pillow at Arthur, who caught it and threw it to the ground, opting instead to pounce on Alfred, pinning him to the bed.

"Surrender, Alfie?" He smirked, but Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's smaller frame and flipped him over.

"Never give up." Alfred smiled sweetly, straddling Arthur's hips. "Didn't ya tell me that?"

"Mm..." Arthur said, his eyelids drooping. "Alfred, be a dear and turn out the lights."

Alfred obeyed, wandering to the other side of the room to reach the lightswitch by the doorhandle.

"What the hell," Alfred mused, rattling the doorknob. "why'd your friend lock us in?"

"Jus' get the fucking light, Alfred." He heard Arthur groan from the bed.

Alfred frowned. If his head didn't feel so damn fuzzy, he might've been able to think back to any details about Francis that seemed odd. But try as he might, he couldn't remember anything about that night but the smell of Arthur's cologne and how strong his arms felt.

He shrugged and flicked the lights off, stumbling his way back to bed.

"Arthur?"

"The bed's over here, idiot." Alfred reached out and finally grasped the edge of the bed and pulled back the sheets.

"Why is it so damn dark?" He whined, pulling the covers up to his chin and turning to face where he assumed Arthur was.

"You turned out the fucking lights." He heard Arthur mutter, then felt arms pull him close to the other man. "G'night bastard."

"Night." He yawned. "You're real cute, you know that? A choice bit o' calico, babe."

"You too, bastard. Now sleep. 'M fucking tired."

**XxXxX**

The money had been divided between the four of them, with an extra pile for Francis, and the gin half gone when the phone rang. Lovino, the closest to the phone, groaned and pushed himself off the floor and away from the warm embrace of Antonio to pick it up.

"Ciao? Who is this?" He asked, holding the phone to his ear.

"Hey Lovi!" Lovino could recognize that voice anywhere. He pursed his lips, sending a look at Antonio as he replied coldly.

"Matthias."

"Heard you guys were up to some nasty things today! Is your alcohol business going downhill? Need a little extra cash?"

"We're doing fine, actually, you pig-headed asshole." Lovino said, grabbing the phone receiver off the table so he could return to his seat next to Antonio. "No thanks to you, apparently. I've heard you've been coming onto our territory lately. Trouble in Queens?"

"Plenty of business. Your customers just seem to be... richer. We like richer over here."

"And we like people who know their fucking place. Stay in Queens. Unless you think your little Norwegian boyfriend would look good with a bullet between his eyes." Lovino let himself flop down so he was laying across Antonio's lap. Antonio smiled down at him and gently began brushing Lovino's hair with his fingers.

"No need to be so violent. We can settle this like gentlemen. It's not like we're taking a lot of business from you. And from your recent bank heists, I figured you'd be rolling in dough. Couldn't you allow us just a few of your customers, lower end ones even?"

"I didn't get to where I am from being fucking generous, Kohler. So keep your stupid ass in Queens and you'll live to see another day."

With that, he hung up the phone and sighed as he relaxed back into Antonio.

"Fucking asshole." He muttered, closing his eyes.

"Aw, Lovi, do you wanna go to bed?"

Lovino moaned, placing his hands over his face.

"Si." He said finally, sitting up. Antonio smiled and helped him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist and giving a little wave the Feliciano and Gilbert as he led him to their bedroom.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Lovino wrapped his arms around Antonio's waist and buried his head his his shoulder.

"I hate those Scandinavian dickbags."

"I know, mi amor." Antonio said, hugging Lovino tightly. Lovino grunted and pulled away.

"Don't try to speak Italian. You're shit at it."

"I- That was Spanish."

"What's the difference?" Lovino asked, a cocky smile spreading across his lips. Antonio smiled and pressed a kiss to Lovino's lips, something that still made both their hearts flutter. Antonio pulled away, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from Lovino's face.

"Hey Lovi... We're criminals, right?"

Lovino rolled his eyes.

"Tonio, we robbed a bank today. Even you should be able to figure that one out."

"No," Antonio laughed, "I mean we don't follow the rules. So... um... we aren't allowed to get married. But," He reached into the pocket of his shirt and produced a golden ring. "I was wondering if you'd want to anyway?"

Lovino stared at the ring, then at Antonio, then down at his feet.

"Lov-"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes, I'll marry you, you fucking idiot." Lovino said, raising his eyes to Antonio's. Antonio was struck speechless by the look on Lovi's face. He had the gentlest and most genuine smile Antonio had ever seen on him and his eyes were wet with happy tears.

"Lovi," Antonio said softly, "You're crying."

Lovino laughed.

"So are you, stupid."

Antonio reached up and touched the corner of his eye. He let out a half laugh, half sob.

"Yes I am." He gently took Lovi's hand in his and placed the ring onto his finger. Lovi stared at it a moment then frowned.

"Don't you have to have one too?"

"Oh! I forgot!" He fished into his pants pocket and produced a second gold ring. "Would you do the honors?"

Lovino took the ring from Antonio and pushed it onto his finger.

"There." Lovino smiled. Antonio felt tears coming into his eyes again, so rather than standing there like an idiot and letting them fall, he pulled Lovino into another kiss.

A loud rapping on the door made them both pull back.

"Hey, Tonio! You ask him yet?!" Gilbert shouted from the other side of the door. Antonio shook his head with an exasperated smile.

"Yeah, Gil!" He called back, not taking his eyes off of Lovi.

"And?!"

"I said yes dumbass! Leave us alone if you want to have a face tomorrow!" Lovino shouted, blushing furiously, but still smiling. Antonio's heart could have melted.

Lovino wrapped his fingers around Antonio's tie, pulling him down and pressing their lips together once more. They began to stumble their way over to the bed, but right as they were about to fall down onto it, there was another knock at the door. Lovino sighed in frustration and stepped back, his hands still lingering on Antonio's chest.

"Deal with your idiot friends. I'm gonna take a shower."

"My friends? How do you know it's not-"

"Ohonhonhon. Tonio~"

"Fine. What is it Francis?" Antonio called, watching regretfully as his future husband disappeared into the bathroom. Francis cracked the door open, peeking his head in with a hand over his eyes.

"Is it safe?"

"I can see you peeking."

"Oui, so I am." Francis replied, taking his hand from his face, "But I don't see your little Italian in here."

"He's in the shower. What do you want?"

"Oh! Right! Those detectives downstairs-"

Antonio rolled his eyes.

"Are they still drooling on each other?"

"When I left they were getting up to dance," Francis giggled, "But that's not why I came up. They're both pretty drunk, I can't let them drive home."

"What are you saying?"

"I have to offer them a room."

Antonio stared at him in disbelief.

"Francis. Lovi's here. Feli's here. I'm here. Gil's here. We're all _here_ tonight. And you want the two people who are hunting us down to sleep across the hall? No way!"

"Come on, Toni! He's my step brother, I can't let him die in a drunk driving accident!"

"What's Lovi going to say about it?"

"What am I going to say about what?" Lovino asked, stepping out of the bathroom wearing pin-striped pajama bottoms and rubbing his damp hair with a towel.

"Ah, you see, _petit homme_, Detectives Kirkland and Jones are downstairs and they are, you might say, half-seas over. As you know, Detective Kirkland and I are half brothers-"

"You just said step brothers."

"Something like that. In either case, I can't let him die in a car crash caused by him and his intoxicated lover. So I was going to put them up for the night."

"Here?"

"_Oui_."

"Tonight?"

"_Oui._"

"Are you fucking insane?"

"I'll lock them in a room. I'll have them leave first thing in the morning. They'll never know."

Lovino plopped down onto his bed, running a hand through his wet hair.

"And... What am I getting out of this?" He asked slowly, an idea forming in his head.

"I-"

"Tell you what," He said, leaning forward, "They can stay. You lock them in the room, get them out in the morning, whatever. But. You make sure they're in a room with one bed. And I want a picture."

"A picture?"

"Let's call it a... get out of jail free card. Just in case."

Francis smiled and nodded.

"I can do that." He turned to go, pausing as he opened the door. "Oh, and _felicitations_."

"So," Antonio said, as the door clicked shut behind Francis, "Should we pick up where we left off?"


	3. Chapter 3

"_Bon matin_, lovebirds! It's time for you to get out of my house!"

Arthur's head hurt, he didn't know where he was and to make matters worse, the first voice he heard when he woke up was Francis'.

"Bloody-fuck!" He almost jumped out of the bed when he looked over to see Alfred curled up beside him, clutching at Arthur's shirt with his hands. "D-did I? Did we?"

Francis snorted, rolling his eyes. "Please. As if you'd forget finally sleeping with your boy toy. _No_, you were just too drunk to drive home so I let you crash here. But, alas! It is time for you to go, so wake Alfred up and get out."

"Always a delight to see you." Arthur grumbled, head throbbing with pain.

"_Oui, mon ami!_ We should do this again sometime! Now I'll leave you to your dumb blonde." Francis waved and disappeared through the doorway.

Arthur sighed exasperatedly and looked down at Alfred. He looked so peaceful when he slept, not endlessly chattering on about everything and without his glasses, he looked so young.

"Alfred," Arthur said, shaking him awake. "Come on, we gotta get home."

"Ugh, _fuck_. Why does my head hurt so much?" Alfred whined, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his hair was sticking up more than usual and Arthur resisted the urge to smooth it down.

"Because we got fucking smashed last night, and we'll be in serious trouble with Beilschmidt of we don't get out of here." Arthur rolled out of bed and pulled his jacket back on. Alfred followed suit, albeit much slower.

"Where are we, anyways?" He said, stretching.

"Do you remember _anything_ from last night?" Arthur pretended not to see Alfred blush. "We're in Francis' apartment, and I don't want to stay in the same place as that frog much longer, so let's bounce."

Thankfully, Francis had finally unlocked the door and the two detectives walked briskly down the sunlit hallway.

"Arthur, do you hear something?" Alfred asked, pausing as they past one of the closed doors. He frowned, pressing his ear to the thick oak door. He couldn't make out many of the words, but he could've sworn he heard their names mentioned.

"Give them their damn privacy in there, Alfred." Called Arthur from the top of the staircase. "Nosy brat."

"No, but I could've sworn I heard..." Alfred shook his head, he was so hungover that he probably imagined it. "Yeah, probably nothing. Let's go home."

The bustling speakeasy was deserted as they walked out through the front door, tables stacked on top of chairs, and the same shining cigarette girls and waitresses from the night before were mopping the floor in plain clothes.

With a quick glance around the quiet midmorning street, Arthur quickly strode out of the establishment, and Alfred caught up on his heels.

"You want to drive?" He asked as they finally spotted their black Ford parked outside a brick building advertizing _New York's Best Pizza!_

"Thought you'd never ask." Arthur caught the keys Alfred threw at him and swung open the drivers side.

**XxXxX**

When they finally arrived at their midtown apartment, they were both ready for a coffee and another nap, but when the door swung open, their plans were suddenly altered.

"Alfred, I've got some bad news." Alfred's brother, Matthew stood on the other side of the threshold, lips pressed into a line.

"How'd you get in?" Arthur asked quizzically, but Matthew just shrugged him off.

"Alfred gave me a spare key. But we have worse problems. Al, mom's decided to pay a visit."

"Shit," Alfred paled. "Great. When she's getting here?"

"Ah," Matthew started, "I wanted to warn you last night but-"

"Alfred? Is that you I hear?"

"Well this is just berries." Alfred whispered to Arthur. "Time for you to finally meet my mother!"

"Right," Matthew said. "Get ready for the hurricane, Arthur."

Their living room was a small, cozy space with mismatched furniture and a long leather couch that they'd end up passing out on on late nights of research. The back wall was covered top to bottom with newspaper clippings, maps, and notes relating to the Vargas Mafia. There was a stack of plates on the table beside Arthur's stack of books and Alfred's comics, but the only thing out of place was the intimidating looking blonde woman sitting in Alfred's favourite armchair.

"Alfred." She smiled, but the action didn't make her seem any less terrifying. "And you must be Arthur."

"Hello Mrs. Jones." Arthur said nervously, sitting beside Alfred on the couch. "Nice to meet you."

"Hey Mom!" Alfred chirped nervously. Arthur didn't know why his friend was so scared of his own mother, but it was starting to put him on edge, too.

"Where have you been?" She asked sternly. "Your brother said you weren't home last night and we've been here all morning, and _now _you walk in the front door looking like something the cat dragged in!"

"This is _my_ apartment, I can come home whenever I want! I don't have a curfew anymore." He huffed.

"Alfred." She said sternly. "You're 19 years old, if it was up to me, you and your brother would be still living at home, going to college..."

"But we can't _afford _college! But I'm so much better off. Both of us are!"

"_Matthew_ is a promising journalist for the New York Times, _you _have a rich roommate and your name in a gossip column."

Arthur turned bright red and Alfred ducked his head. So _this_ is why he was afraid of his mother.

"I don't care about Arthur's money." Alfred replied through gritted teeth. "We're a team. We're the best team."

"Mom," Matthew said, mortified. "Alfred and Arthur are chasing down the most dangerous mob in the city! Why the hell aren't you proud of him?"

"Alfred," Her voice softened. "Honey, I just want you to find a girl, settle down."

"Wh-Why? What about Matthew? I don't want!" Alfred stammered, turning bright red. He was panicking, he didn't want to find a girl, the only person he'd want to settle down with was Arthur.

"There've been some...nasty rumors going around about you. You and him." Alfred could see Arthur tense out of the corner of his eye.

"Now, I'm sure they're not true but," she lowered her voice conspiratorially and Matthew shot him an apologetic glance, making him think that she'd brought it up to him already. "They're saying you're a homosexual, darling."

"Where'd they get that idea!" Alfred forced a laugh, bouncing his knee up and down, unable to look his mother in the eye. "That's ridiculous!"

His voice cracked nervously on the last word and he mentally cursed himself. Why was he so bad at acting natural?

His mother just smiled coldly, sipping her cup of tea she'd obviously prepared for herself when they weren't home. Even if Alfred was currently sitting on Arthur's lap kissing him while Arthur proposed and holding a sign saying "I like men", his mother still wouldn't realize that he was gay. She didn't actually suspect it about him, she just didn't want the rumors. Patience Jones couldn't see anything about Alfred except for the vision of the perfect son she'd created.

"I wasn't worried about you, sweetheart. I was just going to say that I think you should start looking around, there are some lovely young ladies out there who would just love to meet you-"

"Pardon me, Mrs. Jones, I hate to interrupt, but Alfred and I are in the middle of a highly important case at the moment. Three banks have already been robbed by the same crime family in the past month, and currently we are working closely with the New York Police Department to try and hunt them down before they strike again. Your son is leading his own life now, and he is far too busy for _dates_." Arthur said, dangerously quiet, green eyes flashing with restrained anger.

"Mr. Kirkland, I'm sorry but I don't believe you have any say in my son's life." The woman snapped at him, on the other side of the room, Matthew inched towards the kitchen, aching to seek sanctuary from the hostile situation. "If anything, you're a bad influence. Where were the two of you last night?"

"Uh, a stakeout." Arthur said, right as Alfred replied with "At a friend's house."

"Yeah a stakeout." Alfred covered, overlapping with Arthur changing his story as well.

"A stakeout, _then_ we spent the night at a friends." Alfred ran a hand through his hair, flashing the smile Arthur recognized as the one that accompanied every lie. "Anyways Mom, thanks as always for checking up on me but we've got a busy day ahead of us, so-"

Arthur and Alfred both stood up, signalling to Mrs. Jones that she had overstayed her welcome.

"Nice seeing you Alfred," She smiled coldly. "I'll be staying in town a few more days if you want to stop by."

_I'd rather stick my arm into a woodchipper_. Alfred thought, but he bit back a response.

"Yep, bye!" He hurried her out the door, finally slamming it shut behind her.

"Well," Arthur said dryly. "I think it went well."

Alfred banged his head against the door a few times before turning to face Arthur.

"And you wonder why I never bring her up." Alfred groaned. "She _really_ took a liking to you."

"I particularly enjoyed it when she cursed me for being a bad influence. You know me, nothing but danger." Arthur walked out of the entryway and jumped back onto the couch and yawned. "I knit, I read Dickens,"

"And you're an absolute nightmare when you're drunk." Alfred said, sitting beside him. "What are we doing today?"

"Not can check in with Ludwig this afternoon if he's got any leads that match up with ours."

"So," They were interrupted by Matthew, who'd finally emerged from hiding. "Where were you _really _last night?"

**XxXxX**

Feliciano squinted at the bright sunlight filtering through the hall window as he came out of his room. He shuffled slowly down the hallway, yawning, and wondered vaguely if he was forgetting something. He went through the events of the previous day in his head, trying to figure out what it could be, when the door of the spare bedroom opened and Francis slid out, his eyes going wide when he saw the Italian. Feli wondered for a moment why he was in the spare room and not his own, but was quickly shoved into the nearest room, which happened to be his brother's, before he could ask.

"Maybe wait for the detectives to leave before you go out there again, Feliciano?" Francis said. Feliciano smiled. That's what he was forgetting

"Sorry, I forgot they were here! It's okay though, they didn't see me!"

"So Jones and Kirkland are still here?" Lovino asked from the other side of the room where he stood in front of a mirror, tying his tie.

"Shh, not so loud. They should be leaving, but just stay in here and I'll check to make sure they're gone."

"I'd love to see their faces if they ever found out they stayed in our house." Lovino smirked. "Ey, did you get that picture?"

"_Oui_, the poor fools were too drunk to even notice the flash when it went off."

"Good. So, me and Tonio have to do some errands today, Feli what are you doing?"

"It's Sunday, fratello! I'm going to the flower shop to get fresh flowers for Grandpapa's grave!"

Lovino smiled and nodded. Their grandfather had died a few years ago, in a shootout with the police, leaving them to take over his illegal alcohol business. They had kicked the business up a notch since then, mostly out of lingering bitterness that the police had taken their grandfather away from them. They never said it outloud, but it brought them much satisfaction to screw over the cops.

"Well, tell the bastard hey for me, okay?"

Feli nodded eagerly.

"Francis, will you check to see if they're gone yet? I want to get to the flower shop early."

Francis quitted the room, returning after a few moments.

"You're all set, they just drove off."

"_Grazie! _See you later, fratello!"

"Don't forget to wear a hat, Feli!" Lovi called as his brother left the room.

Feli returned to his own bedroom and got dressed, putting on a plain white shirt and tan vest and, following his brother's advice, a newsboy hat, carefully tucking his incriminating curl underneath it. Usually he was quite fond of the silly little curl that he and his brother shared, but lately it had become more of a nuisance as it was key identifier for the police. They had each been adjusting to constantly wearing hats outside of the house and now had quite the collection of different styles.

He examined himself in the mirror a moment before grabbing a bowtie and tying it expertly around his neck,. He decided against grabbing a jacket, since it was summer and he guessed he didn't need one, and skipped happily down the stairs, exiting the apartment through the backdoor.

**XxXxX**

When he arrived at the little flower shop two blocks away, he was greeted kindly by the owner, who knew him after his weekly visits for fresh flowers. Feli waved at the man happily before beginning his search for the perfect flowers.

His grandfather had been an eccentric man, and Feli was certain he would have gotten bored if he was only brought one kind of flower, so he quested for new, unique, flowers each week. Of course doing this for years meant that it was difficult to avoid repeating flowers, so now he just went for the best looking flowers in the shop.

He wandered around the shop for a while, finally narrowing down his options to just two different types of flowers, when the bell above the door rang and a new customer entered. Feli glanced up and blinked in surprise.

The man that had entered was tall, with slicked back blonde hair, and definitely didn't seem like the type to be in a flower shop, but that wasn't what had caught Feli's attention. He could have sworn he knew the man from somewhere.

"Um, _scusi_?" He said, approaching the man, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

The man stared down at him with an unreadable expression before turning away.

"No, I don't think so."

"No, I remember!" Feliciano exclaimed, "You were in my first grade class!"  
Now, the man paused and looked at Feliciano, a flustered look on his face.

"I'm Feliciano! Remember? You thought I was a girl for the first half of the year! I'm sorry, I can't remember your name..."

"I- Ludwig." He stated, blushing slightly.

"Right! Hey do you want to go out to lunch with me? I have to visit the graveyard first, but I'd love to catch up!" He said, giving Ludwig his most charming smile.

"Um- I- Okay." Ludwig stumbled, clearly perplexed by what was happening.

"Great! I have to walk to the graveyard, but I can meet yo-"

"You're going to walk?"

"Well, my brother has the car..."

"The nearest graveyard is four miles away from here."

"That only takes about an hour to walk to, I've done it before!"

"Well if you would like," Ludwig coughed into his hand, blushing again, "I can drive you over after I make my purchase."

"Would you really? That would be wonderful! Thank you so much!"

When Ludwig and Feli had bought their flowers, they got into Ludwig's car and drove to the graveyard. Feli had expected Ludwig to stay in the car, but was pleasantly surprised when he got out to walk with him to the grave. As they walked, he wanted more than anything to ask Ludwig about the end of that first grade year, about the kiss he hand planted on Feli's lips that last day, even after he knew that Feli was a boy.

However, he figured it might not be such a good idea to bring it up with words, so instead, he casually linked arms with Ludwig, who flushed, but didn't mention it. Feliciano took that as a good sign.

When they neared the grave, Feli asked if Ludwig would wait there for him, fearing he might recognize the name of a man who got shot to death by the police. Ludwig agreed, supposing that Feli wanted his privacy with his grandfather, and watched him walk over to the grave and gently set down the flowers.

It was odd, watching someone at a grave. From where he was standing, Ludwig could clearly see that Feliciano was talking, but he couldn't hear a word of it. At first, he was talked animatedly about something. He was like that for awhile, at one point in whatever story he was telling, he cast glances and Ludwig, making him avert his gaze to anywhere but the scene at the gravestone. Then, as Ludwig guessed anyone visiting a grave would, he seemed to slow down and appeared more sad, saying a final few words, before standing and walking slowly back to Ludwig, wiping at his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked, offering his arm. Feli smiled and blinked back a few remaining tears, taking Ludwig's arm.

"_Si_. I just miss him sometimes."

Ludwig nodded and escorted him back to the car in silence.

After that they went and got lunch together. Feli talked through most of it, but Ludwig started to open up and speak more as well. By the time they were finished, Feli was certain that there could be no other person in the world he could like so much.

"Could we do this again sometime?" Feliciano asked as they walked out of the restaurant.

"I- I'd like that." Ludwig said, giving a small smile.

"Perfect! Can I have your number?"

Ludwig nodded, pulling out a pad of paper and pen and scribbling down his name and number and handing to Feliciano, who took it and read it, face paling at the name.

"Ah- Ludwig B-Beilschmidt." Feli read, tugging at his hat.

"Ja, is that a problem?" Ludwig asked, confused at Feliciano's sudden change of mood.

"N-no!" Feli said quickly, laughing nervously, "I just- I think I might know your brother? Gilbert?"

"Ja, Gilbert is my brother. How do you know him?"

"I-He- Um, He, ah, he helped me find my cat one time." Feli lied, mentally slapping himself. He didn't even own a cat. "But, I have to go," He said, trying to recover himself, "I'll call you?"

"O-okay." Ludwig said, giving Feliciano his cue to turn and hurry down the busy Manhattan street.

Lovino was not going to be happy.


	4. Chapter 4

"Beilschmidt!" Arthur called, swinging open the frosted glass door to the busy headquarters. "What've you got for us today?"

They finally decided to show up to the office around 4 in the afternoon, spending the whole day drinking coffee (or tea, in Arthur's case) and listening to all of Matthew's gossip on the high rollers of New York City.

"I was beginning to wonder when you lazy sons of bitches would finally show up." Ludwig, an intimidating German man, glowered at them from over his desk. "We've had work for you all morning."

"Yeah," Arthur handed his and Alfred's coats to a secretary and grabbed a donut from the box on their boss' desk, earning him a glare. "we decided to sleep in."

"Why is Jones wearing sunglasses?" Arthur looked over at his partner, who was, in fact, wearing sunglasses inside. The truth was Alfred still had a head splitting hangover, and the light outside was driving him crazy. "He already wears glasses."

"Because...I look cool." Alfred answered lamely, removing the second pair of glasses and tossing his hair, pushing the stray lock out of his face. "Anyways, what work did you say you had for us?"

"It's not the Vargas', but we have knowledge of another bootlegging outfit." He slid a file over the table to the pair of detectives. "Take a look."

"Matthias Køhler." He read aloud, Alfred scanned the file over his shoulder. "Operates out of Queens, so this punk's their leader?"

The photograph clipped to the file depicted a blond man with gravity defying hair, an almost feral grin on his face. He looked to be around Arthur's own age.

"Who's that behind him?" Alfred said, pointing at a figure behind the mob leader. "The one glaring at the camera?"

"We have a file on him, too. He's the only other associate of his we're certain of. We have other suspects, but that's Lukas Bondevik, he's always seen around Køhler. We assume he's the hitman, tough kid. Hard to crack."

"Right," Arthur closed the file and looked up to see Alfred sneaking three more donuts out of the box. "So what do you want us to do about it?"

"Go undercover. I want you to find out where exactly they're working out of, and how many are on their payroll. And how many more high-ranking Nordics we have to deal with."

"Maybe we should've come earlier." Alfred said through a mouthful of donut, and Inspector Beilschmidt studied him distastefully. "Do we have to go now? Like today?"

His question was answered for him when Kiku Honda, the new intern, burst into the room, papers spilling out of his hands.

"We've got an emergency, Inspector." He reported, breathlessly. "The agent's you sent out this morning to tail Køhler? Well, one of them is back, sir."

"What do you mean one of them?" Ludwig asked, with an expression that showed he knew _exactly_ what Kiku meant.

"Bondevik, sir. But that's not all. There's news. A showdown." The intern said, nervously. "They operate out of an old warehouse on 97th and 35th. The Vargas mafia is meeting them there."

All three men in the room's jaws dropped.

"_Scheisse_." Ludwig cursed, standing up and grabbing his hat from the rack. "Honda, alert the Queens department. Kirkland, Jones, you're coming with me. Do you have your guns?"

The private eyes nodded, following Ludwig as they left the building.

Alfred was terrified, his hands were trembling as the three of them strode down the sidewalks to Beilschmidt's car. He'd never been in the middle of danger before. He was still pretty new to the business. All Alfred did was get into people's heads, figure them out and manipulate them into giving the information he needed. He'd never had to actually _fire_ the pistol he kept tucked into his pocket with his ID.

Arthur, on the other hand, kept his green eyes level and mouth turned downward in a pissed off pout. He looked cool as a cucumber, as if shootouts with two dangerous crime families was what he did every Tuesday night. He'd probably had his fair share of danger, Alfred thought. Arthur had been running around the city, sticking his nose into places where bullets whizzed and cops and robbers alike wanted him gone.

Arthur noticed Alfred's nerves as Ludwig stepped around to unlock the sleek black car.

"Hey," Arthur whispered, giving Alfred's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure it won't come down to a shootout. But if it does," He said grimly, eyes flashing, "I'll protect you."

"Ah, fratello, where are we going?" Feliciano asked from the back seat of his brothers car. Lovino and Antonio had picked him up shortly after he arrived back home and both had been eerily silent since Feliciano got in the car. His stomach twisted at the thought that they somehow knew that he had had lunch with Ludwig earlier, though he knew that it was nearly impossible.

"We got a call earlier, Feli." Antonio said, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Feli could feel his heart pounding in his chest. A call from who? About what? Had someone seen him with Ludwig? Did Ludwig know who he was the whole time? Had Feli accidentally told him where they lived? The possibilities that soared through his head made him feel sick.

"A call?" He managed to squeak out.

"It's those damn Nordic bastards!" Lovino shouted. his grip on the steering wheel making his knuckles go white. "They want to meet to talk about territories! They know damn well where the lines are those motherf-"

Feliciano sat back in his seat, relieved, letting his brother's words glide over his head. It was just the gang in Queens.

"Lovi, slow down the turn-!" Antonio cried as Lovino swung the wheel hard, throwing his passengers against the side of the car. They barely had time to recover when they were thrown forward, Antonio almost slamming his head on the dashboard, as Lovino slammed the brakes in front of the warehouse.

"I think I'll drive home." Antonio said with a small laugh.

"I'm gonna go in first," Lovino said, ignoring him, "Make sure they aren't planning to blow our heads off the minute we walk in. I'll shout if I need you, or if you hear shots come and help, got it?"

"Lovi, I don't want you to go in there by yourself."

"Yeah and I don't want them to be able to kill all of us at the same time. Stay here. I'll be fine."

Lovino slid out of the car, not leaving any time for Antonio to argue. As he disappeared into the warehouse, Antonio and Feliciano got out of the car and leaned against it, waiting in anxious silence for a clue as to what was going on inside. A few quiet moments passed before there was a crash and a yell from inside. The two men had their guns drawn in an instant and ran to the door. Just as Antonio reached to open it, it swung open, revealing Matthias Kohler pressing a gun to Lovino's head. With a cocky and slightly crazy looking grin, he motioned for them to get inside.

The moment they entered, they were forced against a wall by Matthias's cronies, who Antonio recognized as Berwald and Lukas, and their weapons were taken from them. Then, with guns pressed to their backs, they were led through the huge shelves that lined the warehouse to the back, where there was a metal chair facing a couch. Antonio and Feliciano were directed to the couch while Matthias shoved Lovino down onto the chair, keeping the gun trained on his head. Berwald stood facing Antonio and Feliciano, his facial expression telling them that they were as good as dead if they moved a muscle. Lukas roughly grabbed Lovino's wrists and tied them together behind the back of the chair.

"I thought we were going to talk." Antonio spat, rage burning in his eyes.

"We are," Matthias smirked, "I just thought you might be more... Agreeable like this."

Lovino scoffed.

"You smug son of a-"

"Ah, ah ,ah, Lovino." Matthias tisked, cocking the gun. "I don't want to hear a word out of you."

Lovino's lips pressed into a thin line. Feliciano looked around the room, panicked. A few other members, Tino and Emil, he recognized them from other dealings they've had with the nordics, watched the scene from near the door. Antonio and Lovino were too mad to think straight, they could get them all killed. But Feli hated dealing with other gangs. They all seemed unstable and crazy. Especially this one. Nonetheless, he couldn't let Antonio do the talking.

"What are your demands, Mr. Kohler?" Feli tried to ignore the enraged looks he got from Antonio and Lovi for giving Matthias any amount of respect. Instead, he focused his eyes on Matthias, who smiled.

"We want to extend our territory. We'd be taking a small portion of your already huge area here in Manhattan, I doubt you would notice-"

"I'd _die_ before I gave up my territory, bastard!" Lovino spat from the chair he was tied to, tipping forward in his violent outburst. Matthias grabbed the front of the chair, holding him up so Lovino's face was barely an inch from the ground.

"Well that's a promising offer." Matthias grinned dangerously. "I might have to take you up on that-"

"You wouldn't _dare_." Before either of the gun-wielding men could hold him back, Antonio had crossed the room and righted Lovino's chair and grabbed Matthias by the collar. "Don't fucking _touch_ Lovino."

Matthias smirked at the angry Spaniard, but nodded at Lukas to stand down for the moment.

"Ah Carriedo, Lovi's faithful lapdog." Antonio just glared at him. "So are you going to negotiate for yourself, Vargas, or are you going to let your boyfriend do it for you?"

"Fiancé, actually." Lovino said from behind him, having spent the last encounter freeing himself from the rope.

"How did you-" The tall blonde turned around just in time to see Lovino's fist flying toward his face. Feliciano stood up and pulled out his pistol, at the same moment Lukas had already fired three warning shots into the air.

"Careful, Lukas!" Tino cried, panicked. "We can't attract any attention!"

"Too late." A short boy with pale hair said grimly, looking out the window.

"Cops!" The door was broken down and the room fell into mass chaos.

_A/N: Sorry this chapter was short, we are NOT abandoning this don't fret, we were having troubles figuring out where the chapter should end. Lots of action in the next chapter, hopefully there won't be as long of a wait ;) As always, favorites and reviews are greatly appreciated, it keeps us motivated to get chapters out sooner! 3_


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